merchant - allthingsshakespeare.com · web viewsalarinowhy, yet it lives there uncheck’d that...

Merchant of VeniceAct III

By William Shakespeare

Compliments of www.allthingsshakespeare.com

ACT IIISCENE I. Venice. A street.

Enter SALANIO and SALARINO

SALANIONow, what news on the Rialto?

SALARINOWhy, yet it lives there uncheck’d that Antonio hatha ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas;the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a verydangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of manya tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossipReport be an honest woman of her word.

SALANIOI would she were as lying a gossip in that as everknapped ginger or made her neighbours believe shewept for the death of a third husband. But it istrue, without any slips of prolixity or crossing theplain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, thehonest Antonio,–O that I had a title good enoughto keep his name company!–

SALARINOCome, the full stop.

SALANIOHa! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hathlost a ship.

SALARINOI would it might prove the end of his losses.

Icon made by Freepik from www.flaticon.com

http://www.flaticon.com/

http://www.freepik.com/

http://www.allthingsshakespeare.com/

SALANIOLet me say ‘amen’ betimes, lest the devil cross myprayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

Enter SHYLOCK

How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?

SHYLOCKYou know, none so well, none so well as you, of mydaughter’s flight.

SALARINOThat’s certain: I, for my part, knew the tailorthat made the wings she flew withal.

SALANIOAnd Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird wasfledged; and then it is the complexion of them allto leave the dam.

SHYLOCKShe is damned for it.

SALANIOThat’s certain, if the devil may be her judge.

SHYLOCKMy own flesh and blood to rebel!

SALANIOOut upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?

SHYLOCKI say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

SALARINOThere is more difference between thy flesh and hersthan between jet and ivory; more between your bloodsthan there is between red wine and rhenish. Buttell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had anyloss at sea or no?

SHYLOCKThere I have another bad match: a bankrupt, aprodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the




Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug uponthe mart; let him look to his bond: he was wont tocall me usurer; let him look to his bond: he waswont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let himlook to his bond.

SALARINOWhy, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not takehis flesh: what’s that good for?

SHYLOCKTo bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else,it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, andhindered me half a million; laughed at my losses,mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted mybargains, cooled my friends, heated mineenemies; and what’s his reason? I am a Jew. Hathnot a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs,dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed withthe same food, hurt with the same weapons, subjectto the same diseases, healed by the same means,warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, asa Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poisonus, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we notrevenge? If we are like you in the rest, we willresemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christianwrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be byChristian example? Why, revenge. The villany youteach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but Iwill better the instruction.

Enter a Servant

ServantGentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house anddesires to speak with you both.

SALARINOWe have been up and down to seek him.

Enter TUBAL




SALANIOHere comes another of the tribe: a third cannot bematched, unless the devil himself turn Jew.

Exeunt SALANIO, SALARINO, and Servant

SHYLOCKHow now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thoufound my daughter?

TUBALI often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.

SHYLOCKWhy, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone,cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The cursenever fell upon our nation till now; I never felt ittill now: two thousand ducats in that; and otherprecious, precious jewels. I would my daughterwere dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear!would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats inher coffin! No news of them? Why, so: and I knownot what’s spent in the search: why, thou loss uponloss! the thief gone with so much, and so much tofind the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge:nor no in luck stirring but what lights on myshoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tearsbut of my shedding.

TUBALYes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as Iheard in Genoa,–

SHYLOCKWhat, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?

TUBALHath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.

SHYLOCKI thank God, I thank God. Is’t true, is’t true?

TUBALI spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.




SHYLOCKI thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good news!ha, ha! where? in Genoa?

TUBALYour daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in onenight fourscore ducats.

SHYLOCKThou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see mygold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting!fourscore ducats!

TUBALThere came divers of Antonio’s creditors in mycompany to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.

SHYLOCKI am very glad of it: I’ll plague him; I’ll torturehim: I am glad of it.

TUBALOne of them showed me a ring that he had of yourdaughter for a monkey.

SHYLOCKOut upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was myturquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor:I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.

TUBALBut Antonio is certainly undone.

SHYLOCKNay, that’s true, that’s very true. Go, Tubal, feeme an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. Iwill have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, werehe out of Venice, I can make what merchandise Iwill. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue;go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.

Exeunt




SCENE II. Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house.

Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and AttendantsPORTIAI pray you, tarry: pause a day or twoBefore you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.There’s something tells me, but it is not love,I would not lose you; and you know yourself,Hate counsels not in such a quality.But lest you should not understand me well,–And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,–I would detain you here some month or twoBefore you venture for me. I could teach youHow to choose right, but I am then forsworn;So will I never be: so may you miss me;But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin,That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,They have o’erlook’d me and divided me;One half of me is yours, the other half yours,Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,And so all yours. O, these naughty timesPut bars between the owners and their rights!And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time,To eke it and to draw it out in length,To stay you from election.

BASSANIOLet me chooseFor as I am, I live upon the rack.

PORTIAUpon the rack, Bassanio! then confessWhat treason there is mingled with your love.

BASSANIONone but that ugly treason of mistrust,Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:There may as well be amity and life‘Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

PORTIAAy, but I fear you speak upon the rack,Where men enforced do speak anything.




BASSANIOPromise me life, and I’ll confess the truth.

PORTIAWell then, confess and live.

BASSANIO‘Confess’ and ‘love’Had been the very sum of my confession:O happy torment, when my torturerDoth teach me answers for deliverance!But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

PORTIAAway, then! I am lock’d in one of them:If you do love me, you will find me out.Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.Let music sound while he doth make his choice;Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,Fading in music: that the comparisonMay stand more proper, my eye shall be the streamAnd watery death-bed for him. He may win;And what is music then? Then music isEven as the flourish when true subjects bowTo a new-crowned monarch: such it isAs are those dulcet sounds in break of dayThat creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear,And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,With no less presence, but with much more love,Than young Alcides, when he did redeemThe virgin tribute paid by howling TroyTo the sea-monster: I stand for sacrificeThe rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,With bleared visages, come forth to viewThe issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!Live thou, I live: with much, much more dismayI view the fight than thou that makest the fray.

Music, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself

SONG.Tell me where is fancy bred,Or in the heart, or in the head?How begot, how nourished?Reply, reply.It is engender’d in the eyes,




With gazing fed; and fancy diesIn the cradle where it lies.Let us all ring fancy’s knellI’ll begin it,–Ding, dong, bell.

ALLDing, dong, bell.

BASSANIOSo may the outward shows be least themselves:The world is still deceived with ornament.In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,Obscures the show of evil? In religion,What damned error, but some sober browWill bless it and approve it with a text,Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?There is no vice so simple but assumesSome mark of virtue on his outward parts:How many cowards, whose hearts are all as falseAs stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chinsThe beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;Who, inward search’d, have livers white as milk;And these assume but valour’s excrementTo render them redoubted! Look on beauty,And you shall see ’tis purchased by the weight;Which therein works a miracle in nature,Making them lightest that wear most of it:So are those crisped snaky golden locksWhich make such wanton gambols with the wind,Upon supposed fairness, often knownTo be the dowry of a second head,The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.Thus ornament is but the guiled shoreTo a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarfVeiling an Indian beauty; in a word,The seeming truth which cunning times put onTo entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge‘Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;And here choose I; joy be the consequence!




PORTIA[Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air,As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! O love,Be moderate; allay thy ecstasy,In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.I feel too much thy blessing: make it less,For fear I surfeit.

BASSANIOWhat find I here?

Opening the leaden casket

Fair Portia’s counterfeit! What demi-godHath come so near creation? Move these eyes?Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,Seem they in motion? Here are sever’d lips,Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a barShould sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairsThe painter plays the spider and hath wovenA golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes,–How could he see to do them? having made one,Methinks it should have power to steal both hisAnd leave itself unfurnish’d. Yet look, how farThe substance of my praise doth wrong this shadowIn underprizing it, so far this shadowDoth limp behind the substance. Here’s the scroll,The continent and summary of my fortune.

Reads

You that choose not by the view,Chance as fair and choose as true!Since this fortune falls to you,Be content and seek no new,If you be well pleased with thisAnd hold your fortune for your bliss,Turn you where your lady isAnd claim her with a loving kiss.A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave;I come by note, to give and to receive.Like one of two contending in a prize,That thinks he hath done well in people’s eyes,Hearing applause and universal shout,




Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubtWhether these pearls of praise be his or no;So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;As doubtful whether what I see be true,Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you.

PORTIAYou see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,Such as I am: though for myself aloneI would not be ambitious in my wish,To wish myself much better; yet, for youI would be trebled twenty times myself;A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;That only to stand high in your account,I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends,Exceed account; but the full sum of meIs sum of something, which, to term in gross,Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractised;Happy in this, she is not yet so oldBut she may learn; happier than this,She is not bred so dull but she can learn;Happiest of all is that her gentle spiritCommits itself to yours to be directed,As from her lord, her governor, her king.Myself and what is mine to you and yoursIs now converted: but now I was the lordOf this fair mansion, master of my servants,Queen o’er myself: and even now, but now,This house, these servants and this same myselfAre yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;Which when you part from, lose, or give away,Let it presage the ruin of your loveAnd be my vantage to exclaim on you.

BASSANIOMadam, you have bereft me of all words,Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;And there is such confusion in my powers,As after some oration fairly spokeBy a beloved prince, there doth appearAmong the buzzing pleased multitude;Where every something, being blent together,Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,Express’d and not express’d. But when this ringParts from this finger, then parts life from hence:O, then be bold to say Bassanio’s dead!




NERISSAMy lord and lady, it is now our time,That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady!

GRATIANOMy lord Bassanio and my gentle lady,I wish you all the joy that you can wish;For I am sure you can wish none from me:And when your honours mean to solemnizeThe bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,Even at that time I may be married too.

BASSANIOWith all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

GRATIANOI thank your lordship, you have got me one.My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;You loved, I loved for intermission.No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.Your fortune stood upon the casket there,And so did mine too, as the matter falls;For wooing here until I sweat again,And sweating until my very roof was dryWith oaths of love, at last, if promise last,I got a promise of this fair one hereTo have her love, provided that your fortuneAchieved her mistress.

PORTIAIs this true, Nerissa?

NERISSAMadam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.

BASSANIOAnd do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?

GRATIANOYes, faith, my lord.

BASSANIOOur feast shall be much honour’d in your marriage.




GRATIANOWe’ll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats.

NERISSAWhat, and stake down?

GRATIANONo; we shall ne’er win at that sport, and stake down.But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What,and my old Venetian friend Salerio?

Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice

BASSANIOLorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither;If that the youth of my new interest hereHave power to bid you welcome. By your leave,I bid my very friends and countrymen,Sweet Portia, welcome.

PORTIASo do I, my lord:They are entirely welcome.

LORENZOI thank your honour. For my part, my lord,My purpose was not to have seen you here;But meeting with Salerio by the way,He did entreat me, past all saying nay,To come with him along.

SALERIOI did, my lord;And I have reason for it. Signior AntonioCommends him to you.

Gives Bassanio a letter

BASSANIOEre I ope his letter,I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.

SALERIONot sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;Nor well, unless in mind: his letter thereWill show you his estate.




GRATIANONerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.Your hand, Salerio: what’s the news from Venice?How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?I know he will be glad of our success;We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.

SALERIOI would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.

PORTIAThere are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,That steals the colour from Bassanio’s cheek:Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the worldCould turn so much the constitutionOf any constant man. What, worse and worse!With leave, Bassanio: I am half yourself,And I must freely have the half of anythingThat this same paper brings you.

BASSANIOO sweet Portia,Here are a few of the unpleasant’st wordsThat ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,When I did first impart my love to you,I freely told you, all the wealth I hadRan in my veins, I was a gentleman;And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,Rating myself at nothing, you shall seeHow much I was a braggart. When I told youMy state was nothing, I should then have told youThat I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,I have engaged myself to a dear friend,Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady;The paper as the body of my friend,And every word in it a gaping wound,Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?Have all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,From Lisbon, Barbary and India?And not one vessel ‘scape the dreadful touchOf merchant-marring rocks?

SALERIONot one, my lord.




Besides, it should appear, that if he hadThe present money to discharge the Jew,He would not take it. Never did I knowA creature, that did bear the shape of man,So keen and greedy to confound a man:He plies the duke at morning and at night,And doth impeach the freedom of the state,If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,The duke himself, and the magnificoesOf greatest port, have all persuaded with him;But none can drive him from the envious pleaOf forfeiture, of justice and his bond.

JESSICAWhen I was with him I have heard him swearTo Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,That he would rather have Antonio’s fleshThan twenty times the value of the sumThat he did owe him: and I know, my lord,If law, authority and power deny not,It will go hard with poor Antonio.

PORTIAIs it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

BASSANIOThe dearest friend to me, the kindest man,The best-condition’d and unwearied spiritIn doing courtesies, and one in whomThe ancient Roman honour more appearsThan any that draws breath in Italy.

PORTIAWhat sum owes he the Jew?

BASSANIOFor me three thousand ducats.

PORTIAWhat, no more?Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;Double six thousand, and then treble that,Before a friend of this descriptionShall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault.First go with me to church and call me wife,And then away to Venice to your friend;




For never shall you lie by Portia’s sideWith an unquiet soul. You shall have goldTo pay the petty debt twenty times over:When it is paid, bring your true friend along.My maid Nerissa and myself meantimeWill live as maids and widows. Come, away!For you shall hence upon your wedding-day:Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.But let me hear the letter of your friend.

BASSANIO[Reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have allmiscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate isvery low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and sincein paying it, it is impossible I should live, alldebts are cleared between you and I, if I might butsee you at my death. Notwithstanding, use yourpleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come,let not my letter.

PORTIAO love, dispatch all business, and be gone!

BASSANIOSince I have your good leave to go away,I will make haste: but, till I come again,No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay,No rest be interposer ‘twixt us twain.

Exeunt

SCENE III. Venice. A street.

Enter SHYLOCK, SALARINO, ANTONIO, and GaolerSHYLOCKGaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy;This is the fool that lent out money gratis:Gaoler, look to him.

ANTONIOHear me yet, good Shylock.

SHYLOCKI’ll have my bond; speak not against my bond:I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.




Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause;But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs:The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fondTo come abroad with him at his request.

ANTONIOI pray thee, hear me speak.

SHYLOCKI’ll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:I’ll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.I’ll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yieldTo Christian intercessors. Follow not;I’ll have no speaking: I will have my bond.

Exit

SALARINOIt is the most impenetrable curThat ever kept with men.

ANTONIOLet him alone:I’ll follow him no more with bootless prayers.He seeks my life; his reason well I know:I oft deliver’d from his forfeituresMany that have at times made moan to me;Therefore he hates me.

SALARINOI am sure the dukeWill never grant this forfeiture to hold.

ANTONIOThe duke cannot deny the course of law:For the commodity that strangers haveWith us in Venice, if it be denied,Will much impeach the justice of his state;Since that the trade and profit of the cityConsisteth of all nations. Therefore, go:These griefs and losses have so bated me,That I shall hardly spare a pound of fleshTo-morrow to my bloody creditor.




Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio comeTo see me pay his debt, and then I care not!

Exeunt

SCENE IV. Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house.

Enter PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, and BALTHASARLORENZOMadam, although I speak it in your presence,You have a noble and a true conceitOf godlike amity; which appears most stronglyIn bearing thus the absence of your lord.But if you knew to whom you show this honour,How true a gentleman you send relief,How dear a lover of my lord your husband,I know you would be prouder of the workThan customary bounty can enforce you.

PORTIAI never did repent for doing good,Nor shall not now: for in companionsThat do converse and waste the time together,Whose souls do bear an equal yoke Of love,There must be needs a like proportionOf lineaments, of manners and of spirit;Which makes me think that this Antonio,Being the bosom lover of my lord,Must needs be like my lord. If it be so,How little is the cost I have bestow’dIn purchasing the semblance of my soulFrom out the state of hellish misery!This comes too near the praising of myself;Therefore no more of it: hear other things.Lorenzo, I commit into your handsThe husbandry and manage of my houseUntil my lord’s return: for mine own part,I have toward heaven breathed a secret vowTo live in prayer and contemplation,Only attended by Nerissa here,Until her husband and my lord’s return:There is a monastery two miles off;And there will we abide. I do desire youNot to deny this imposition;The which my love and some necessityNow lays upon you.




LORENZOMadam, with all my heart;I shall obey you in all fair commands.

PORTIAMy people do already know my mind,And will acknowledge you and JessicaIn place of Lord Bassanio and myself.And so farewell, till we shall meet again.

LORENZOFair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!

JESSICAI wish your ladyship all heart’s content.

PORTIAI thank you for your wish, and am well pleasedTo wish it back on you: fare you well Jessica.

Exeunt JESSICA and LORENZO

Now, Balthasar,As I have ever found thee honest-true,So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,And use thou all the endeavour of a manIn speed to Padua: see thou render thisInto my cousin’s hand, Doctor Bellario;And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speedUnto the tranect, to the common ferryWhich trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee.

BALTHASARMadam, I go with all convenient speed.

Exit

PORTIACome on, Nerissa; I have work in handThat you yet know not of: we’ll see our husbandsBefore they think of us.

NERISSAShall they see us?




PORTIAThey shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,That they shall think we are accomplishedWith that we lack. I’ll hold thee any wager,When we are both accoutred like young men,I’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two,And wear my dagger with the braver grace,And speak between the change of man and boyWith a reed voice, and turn two mincing stepsInto a manly stride, and speak of fraysLike a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies,How honourable ladies sought my love,Which I denying, they fell sick and died;I could not do withal; then I’ll repent,And wish for all that, that I had not killed them;And twenty of these puny lies I’ll tell,That men shall swear I have discontinued schoolAbove a twelvemonth. I have within my mindA thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,Which I will practise.

NERISSAWhy, shall we turn to men?

PORTIAFie, what a question’s that,If thou wert near a lewd interpreter!But come, I’ll tell thee all my whole deviceWhen I am in my coach, which stays for usAt the park gate; and therefore haste away,For we must measure twenty miles to-day.

Exeunt

SCENE V. The same. A garden.

Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICALAUNCELOTYes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the fatherare to be laid upon the children: therefore, Ipromise ye, I fear you. I was always plain withyou, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter:therefore be of good cheer, for truly I think youare damned. There is but one hope in it that can doyou any good; and that is but a kind of bastardhope neither.




JESSICAAnd what hope is that, I pray thee?

LAUNCELOTMarry, you may partly hope that your father got younot, that you are not the Jew’s daughter.

JESSICAThat were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so thesins of my mother should be visited upon me.

LAUNCELOTTruly then I fear you are damned both by father andmother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, Ifall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you aregone both ways.

JESSICAI shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me aChristian.

LAUNCELOTTruly, the more to blame he: we were Christiansenow before; e’en as many as could well live, one byanother. This making Christians will raise theprice of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, weshall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.

Enter LORENZO

JESSICAI’ll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.

LORENZOI shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, ifyou thus get my wife into corners.

JESSICANay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and Iare out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy forme in heaven, because I am a Jew’s daughter: and hesays, you are no good member of the commonwealth,for in converting Jews to Christians, you raise theprice of pork.




LORENZOI shall answer that better to the commonwealth thanyou can the getting up of the negro’s belly: theMoor is with child by you, Launcelot.

LAUNCELOTIt is much that the Moor should be more than reason:but if she be less than an honest woman, she isindeed more than I took her for.

LORENZOHow every fool can play upon the word! I think thebest grace of wit will shortly turn into silence,and discourse grow commendable in none only butparrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.

LAUNCELOTThat is done, sir; they have all stomachs.

LORENZOGoodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bidthem prepare dinner.

LAUNCELOTThat is done too, sir; only ‘cover’ is the word.

LORENZOWill you cover then, sir?

LAUNCELOTNot so, sir, neither; I know my duty.

LORENZOYet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou showthe whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I praytree, understand a plain man in his plain meaning:go to thy fellows; bid them cover the table, servein the meat, and we will come in to dinner.

LAUNCELOTFor the table, sir, it shall be served in; for themeat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming into dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours andconceits shall govern.

Exit




LORENZOO dear discretion, how his words are suited!The fool hath planted in his memoryAn army of good words; and I do knowA many fools, that stand in better place,Garnish’d like him, that for a tricksy wordDefy the matter. How cheerest thou, Jessica?And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio’s wife?

JESSICAPast all expressing. It is very meetThe Lord Bassanio live an upright life;For, having such a blessing in his lady,He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;And if on earth he do not mean it, thenIn reason he should never come to heavenWhy, if two gods should play some heavenly matchAnd on the wager lay two earthly women,And Portia one, there must be something elsePawn’d with the other, for the poor rude worldHath not her fellow.

LORENZOEven such a husbandHast thou of me as she is for a wife.

JESSICANay, but ask my opinion too of that.

LORENZOI will anon: first, let us go to dinner.

JESSICANay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.

LORENZONo, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;‘ Then, howso’er thou speak’st, ‘mong other thingsI shall digest it.

JESSICAWell, I’ll set you forth.

Exeunt




[Merchant of Venice – Act IV]




http://localhost/merchant-of-venice-act-iv/

merchant - allthingsshakespeare.com · web viewsalarinowhy, yet it lives there uncheck’d that...

Documents